


that crinkly thing

by weekend_conspiracy_theorist



Category: Fantastic Four (Comicverse), Spider-Man (Comicverse)
Genre: M/M, actual fic not in second person, and cameos by JJJ MJ and Sue, rated T literally just for paranoia and for maybe two curse words?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-18
Updated: 2016-05-18
Packaged: 2018-06-09 05:12:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6891556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weekend_conspiracy_theorist/pseuds/weekend_conspiracy_theorist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's a normal day. You and one of your best friends (who you may have a few warm and fuzzy non-platonic feelings for) just accidentally got yourselves kidnapped along with a guy who hates your guts, then you both saved him (but not without mercilessly mocking him first). Oh, and you got a little beat up, so your friend decides to carry you bridal style into the waiting quinjet.</p><p>Because this is your life, things spiral from there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	that crinkly thing

**Author's Note:**

> this isn't even the marvel fic I intended to write when I guiltily decided to write a marvel fic next, despite having a half-finished leverage ot3 fic and several flarrow prompts sitting in my inbox, but, well.
> 
> I really love Spider-Man, an emotion stirred up even more vigorously than normal by Civil War, and I've been following [ traincat ](http://traincat.tumblr.com) for far too long not to ship spideytorch
> 
> also I wrote this between the hours of midnight and four AM, so feel free to point out typos

"I would just like to say, deeply and from the bottom of my heart," Peter said, "that you're welcome to call any time."

 

"Yeah," Johnny agreed. "This was a real swell time. I feel like we all truly got to know each other deeply and intimately, and have emerged from this experience better men for it." He slung an arm around Jonah's shoulders- first stretching onto his toes, and then _dragging_ Jonah down, sideways and crooked and _seething_ \- and punches his ribs with the other hand. "We're close enough to be family, now."

 

Peter was pretty sure that if weird alien technology hadn't temporarily robbed him of his speech, good ol' J. Jonah Jameson would have a) been cursing violently enough to make Logan nod in a manly gesture of respect and/or b) already be verbally plotting the next day's headline—"SPIDER-MAN AND THE HUMAN TORCH AID AND ABET ALIEN KIDNAPPING OF _BUGLE_ EDITOR" had a good ring to it, huh?

 

"The good kind of family, where we all properly support each other and only bicker lovingly; not the kind where you call Johnny a good-for-nothing and I call you a dick and the two of us move out as soon as we're eighteen and never see you again." Peter had enough of a self-preservation instinct (somewhere, MJ nearly snorted orange juice out her nose) to throw his arm around Johnny's shoulders instead of Jameson's when he moved to complete the chain, but it didn't stop Jameson from glaring daggers at him around Johnny's dirt-coated blonde hair.

 

Johnny slipped an arm around Peter's waist in return, his thumb brushing one of the bare patches of skin exposed by rips in the suit, and Peter fluttered his eyelashes back at Jameson, a gesture the man could (for once) appreciate, given the shattered, empty space in the left lens.

 

"Say," Peter asked, infusing his voice with as much apple-pie-aw-shucks as he possibly could, "do you mind if I call you 'Pops'?"

 

Jameson was now glaring swords.

 

Johnny made a disgruntled noise, turning his own narrow eyed gaze onto Peter. "I see him as more of a brother. A much, much less attractive and extraordinarily uncharismatic brother."

 

"Don't you think he's a little old to—"

 

That was when the quinjet roared into view, passing over their heads and then looping back to settle onto the earth behind them; Peter's taunt was lost under the sound of the engines, and Jameson violently tore himself out from under Johnny's arm to hobble angrily toward it.

 

Peter's grip tightened reflexively on Johnny's shoulder, holding him upright when Jameson's shove threw him off balance, and Johnny huffed. "You're the one who was basically thrown through a building, Pete," he pointed out. He shifted under Peter's arm, securing it with his hand over Peter's on his shoulder and getting in a little tighter to Peter's side. "Pretty sure I should be the one holding _you_ upright."

 

"Building, schmuilding. I am absolutely—" Johnny's loose, playful grip on his waist abruptly shifted into a hard grasp at his ribs, and Peter's voice went up three octaves—"fine!"

 

"Brat," Johnny said, nose in the air like he _wasn't_ the one to taunt the angry green owl-men into taking them along with Jonah. He guided Peter through ten or fifteen steps forward- and fine, so maybe Peter was leaning on Johnny a little more than a perfectly healthy super-powered adult would- and then he stopped.

 

He looked at Peter appraisingly.

 

Peter felt that vein in his temple, the specialized Dealing with Johnny Storm Vein™, throb violently. "Whatever you're about to do—"

 

Johnny crouched, the world turned sideways, Peter yelped.

 

There was the distant sound of a SHIELD agent snickering and snapping a picture with their phone.

 

"I swear you're lighter than this when I'm flying," Johnny grumbled, course correcting after an initial stagger and then  plodding determinedly forward. (Peter weighed his options, and just letting Johnny carry him bridal style was probably the only one where he didn't end up hurting himself. Johnny was too stubborn to let him go without a fight.)

 

"If you hit my head on the doorway, we're finding out how to get alien divorced," Peter informed him, already planning how best to deny the way he (and he was sure Johnny) could already feel the tension in his bruised muscles easing thanks to Johnny's body heat. (Clearly just a biological reaction. Nothing to do with possibly undisclosed emotions/warm-and-fuzzy feelings regarding "home" and "Johnny". Nuh uh, no sirree.)

 

"But we've been alien married like five times," Johnny pointed out, something like satisfaction in his tone. "The one divorce wouldn't really matter." He stumbled slightly over the threshold, and Peter hissed, hand clenching on Johnny's shoulder—"Good?" Johnny asked, quietly, real concern breaking through his teasing for one split second.

 

Peter released his grip, flashing his best grin (Johnny couldn't see it, despite all the damage elsewhere on the suit, but he was eerily good at reading Peter's expressions even through the mask) and squeezing once, lightly, at the nape of Johnny's neck. "Good," he confirmed.

 

Johnny's eyes did that crinkly thing when he smiled.

 

Man, Peter loved that crinkly thing.

 

***

 

"So it's come to my attention," Johnny said, his voice doing that "I'm gonna make a joke about this but actually I kinda wanna hurl myself off of a building without flaming on" thing, "that that SHIELD agent might not have been the only one taking pictures of us the other day. I gotta say, over-protective is a great look on me, but you should probably work on your damsel in distress body language."

 

Peter let himself slide sideways down the back of the couch, hitting speakerphone as he buried his face in MJ's thigh.

 

"I mean," Johnny continued, and Peter could practically picture him shrugging, crossing one arm over his chest as he faux-casually leaned a hip against the wall, "the ripped suit accented your thighs pretty well, but in several of the pictures you're rolling your eyes. The one when—ah, when you grabbed the back of my neck? That one's pretty good though. My eyes are doing that crinkly thing, and you're actually looking at me."

 

Peter could feel MJ shuddering from her attempts to hold back her laughter. He appreciated the gesture, more or less, though he wished he had at least _one_ best-friend-ex-girlfriend who was willing to be sympathetic in regards to the awful, ridiculous things that happened in his life.

 

"Do I even wanna know what the headline is?" Peter asked, turning his head to the side just enough for his voice to be clear.

 

"It's decently tame for JJJ; I think he was uncharacteristically aware of possible homophobic misinterpretations of anything too vitriolic. My main concern—"

 

"Is that everyone else is gonna pick at the thread, and you two'll be dodging paparazzi after the money shot while you're trying to superhero?" MJ suggested.

 

"Uh." Johnny cleared his throat. "Yeah."

 

Peter rolled over, one eyebrow rising, and MJ nodded back at him, brows scrunched. "Hiding something," she mouthed, then slipped out from under Peter and pointed to the kitchen. "Hey, Johnny, I gotta go stir the soup. Just you and Pete for a few."

 

Peter took it off speakerphone, sitting back up. "What do you think we should do? You're definitely more used to the whole…" Peter waved a hand vaguely. "Paparazzi, thing."

 

"Soup?" Johnny asked, amused. "At two in the afternoon in the middle of summer?"

 

"She's a soap actress, not a master of improv." (MJ stuck her tongue out at him when he glanced over his shoulder at her.) He rubbed the bridge of his nose, sighing. "Sorry for springing speaker phone on you. What's really up?"

 

Johnny was silent long enough that Peter was about to prompt him again, gently, when he finally blurted, frustration dripping from his voice, "I actually look like I'm in love with you!"

 

Peter blinked. Glanced back at MJ, attempting to eavesdrop and largely unabashed, and eased himself off of the couch to head out to the balcony.

 

"Ah, god, that's not what I'm trying to say," Johnny groaned, and there was a dull, faint thunk as if he'd just banged his forehead against something. The wall, or a table. "I mean—that is what's bugging me the most, but it's just because—" he cut off with a noise of frustration. "Come over and let me explain in person? Peter Parker is the most innocuous of our identities, right now. You'll have the easiest time getting across the city."

 

"Yeah, sure, Johnny," Peter agreed immediately, not liking the plaintive frustration in Johnny's tone. "I'll see you in a few."

 

"Good." Johnny sounded utterly relieved. "Good, that's—I'll see you in a few."

 

He hung up, and Peter lowered his phone from his ear, staring blankly at the screen for about ten seconds before pulling up the web browser. He had time to peek at the pictures first, he was sure.

 

***

 

It was a little weird entering the Baxter Building from the ground floor, Peter had to admit. Normally he made use of Johnny's window even if he wasn't coming around on superhero business—web slinging was easier and faster than pretty much every other form of transportation through the city (excluding literal flight, of course). And the elevator ride—man, on a normal day it felt awfully long, but when he was in the middle of handling a squirrelly and nervous Johnny Storm, he was pretty sure he was going to die of old age and/or stress before he even got close.

 

The doors weren't even fully open when Johnny grabbed him by the front of his t-shirt and dragged him out. Sue called out a greeting and Reed echoed it a beat behind, clearly too engrossed in something or other to actually realize who he was saying hello to, but Johnny was marching down the hall with a purpose, Peter tugged along in his wake.

 

"I'd ask 'where's the fire?' but it's not like you'd need to flee it," Peter joked, turning awkwardly to wave at Sue (and shrug in solidarity when she raised an eyebrow in confusion).

 

Johnny paused in front of his room, shoving Peter inside before following after him. The door pressed closed—Johnny leaned heavily against it for a long moment, eyes scrunched shut as he blew out a sharp breath, and Peter's eyebrows attempted to climb right off of his face.

 

"Look, Johnny, you're officially freaking me—"

 

Pardon the cliché, but Peter's brain was too busy _screeching to a halt_ to come up with anything better than "Peter's brain screeched to a halt." Because—

 

Johnny's lips.

 

Johnny's lips _on Peter's_.

 

He froze, hands in the air and fingers splayed, and Johnny made a disgruntled noise before pulling away. His hand was fisted in Peter's t-shirt again, and he brushed his hair out of his eyes with a sharp, frustrated movement. (Peter tracked it with wide eyes, brain continuing to stand stock still on the tracks.)

 

"Look," Johnny said, eyes narrowed and jaw set in determination, "I freaked out over how obvious I was in those pictures because I hadn't intended to let _every other goddamn person in this city_ in on this before you."

 

"MJ hasn't seen the paper yet; there's one person," Peter said, mouth running on autopilot same as ever. Because it sounded a little bit like—

 

"Kidding me, Parker?" Johnny snorted. "MJ probably figured it out before I did; she's magic like that." He let go of Peter's shirt, smoothing it with a thoughtful look in his eye before curling a hand around Peter's hip and drawing him tentatively closer.

 

"I, uh." Peter could feel his cheeks turning bright red, because Johnny was smiling all soft and nervous, and his hand was on Peter's hip, and those warm and fuzzy feelings were coming back again, and his heart was pounding—

 

"You, uh?" Johnny prompted, a little teasing now that Peter wasn't shoving him away. He ran the backs of the knuckles of his free hand down Peter's upper arm. He was _smirking_ , the bastard.

 

"I'd appreciate you being explicit about what I'm being let in on right now?" Peter offered weakly. Weakly was more or less all he was capable of as Johnny moved backwards, drawing Peter along with him until Johnny's back was flat against the door and there were scant inches between their chests.

 

Johnny's smirk widened. "Thought you were the smart one."

 

Peter licked his lips, and nearly let out a rather embarrassing squeak of shock when Johnny's gaze locked onto the movement. "Humor me," he said, and Johnny sighed, let his head thunk back against the door.

 

"Peter 'Webhead' Parker," he began, fluttering his eyelashes and imbuing his voice with as much campy over-dramatic sincerity as he could. "Would that there were words which could possibly describe the yearning in my heart that comes whenever I catch sight of your cowlicked head of hair and abominable fashion sense—"

 

"Oh my god, never mind," Peter groaned, pressing a hand over Johnny's mouth. Of course- and honestly, _honestly_ he should have seen this coming- Johnny immediately licked his palm, stomach shaking with laughter, and Peter jerked his hand back. "Ew, god, Johnny, would you just let me—"

 

"Love you," Johnny cut in cheerfully.

 

Peter felt all the air leave his chest at once.

 

"Love you, too," he managed, and Johnny's eyes did that crinkly thing again.

 


End file.
